


Dirty Filthy Me

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Comedy, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hypnotism, Obsessive Behavior, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: After being hypnotized by her neighbor, an Elementary Ed college student becomes compulsively obsessed with anal sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A reader challenged me to write a story about a small dinner party between two couples. The hosts, in their late 40s, would then hypnotize the guests, in their early 20s. I loved the premise and wrote “Dr. Mesmero and Assistant” from the older couple’s perspective.
> 
> While polishing up that story, a perverse little idea about the younger couple’s perspective occurred to me, which became this story.
> 
> \---NickelModelTales

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

**Clintonville OH, August 2004**

Hey there.  I’m Stephanie McMasters, starting my sophomore year at OSU.  Early Child Education.  I have some catch-up work to do on my general requirements, but if all goes well, I could be student teaching in three years.  I’m hoping to land in a Kindergarten or First Grade classroom; some of my fondest memories in life are from that age.

Before I can declare a major, however, I have to find a place to live.  I could do the dorm thing, but my boyfriend, Josh, promised me we would live in a **_house_** off-campus, and not too far from my old neighborhood.

So I’m blown away when Joshie announces he’s found us a home, an actual fucking house!

(Whoops… I’ve gotta watch the potty mouth.  You can’t be an early ed teacher and say things like “fuck.”)

Anyway, the house is in Clintonville, about ten minutes from campus.  I’m thrilled when he tells me.  I know Clintonville, my mom raised me not too far from here.

I didn’t know it when he and I first hooked up, but Josh’s family is rich.  Like, really, really rich.  Josh could have moved to New York and lived off his trust fund, but to his credit, he wants an MBA and to then launch an Internet company.  I secretly suspect this is why he wants a big house… it will serve as the first JoshCo HQ.

And the house is big, really big!  The owner, one Frank Hwong, has given us a generous three-year lease.  Nice.

We move in this week.

*********************************

Man, this house is big.  Josh and I put my old beat-up futon, my sleeping bag, and some suitcases in the master bedroom, and we’re moved in.  At least until Josh’s parents send the moving truck.  That leaves a lot of rooms with literally nothing in them.

Worse, the A/C here is busted and its really freakin’ hot out.  I strip down to a pair of short shorts and my raggy cut-off top, and I’m still hot.  I pin my hair up to keep it off my neck.

“Ugh,” I groan.  Its just after sundown; too late to go out, but too early to go to bed.  Josh and I have literally **_nothing_** to do, so we wander through all these rooms, discussing what will go where.  Once the movers arrive.

Josh opens the dining room window, and thankfully, a breeze flows in.  Oh man, does that feel good.

“Nice,” Josh comments, appreciating the cooler air.  He strips off his shirt, and I smile when I see his six-pack.  I think Josh is always hopeful for an opportunity to go shirtless.

“Hey now,” he says playfully.  “I took **_my_** top off.  Fair’s fair.”

I giggle.  Josh is cute when he plays sexy like this.

“Yeah, baby?” I tease.  “I think you should show me more.”

He pretends to be scandalized.  “Strip more?  What am I, Thunder from Down Under?”

I roll with it.  Pretending to be an audience member in a male strip club, I raise my arms over my head, cheering, “Whooo!”

Josh fakes a little dance, but the boy has no moves or grace.  “You dance,” he challenges me.

“Uh-huh, you’d like that,” I retort.  “What’s in it for me?”

“Massage,” Josh replies.

Oh mama!  Josh may be a lousy cook, bad at remembering dates, and never uses the laundry hamper, but my boy is dynamite at giving massages.  For that, I’ll shake my booty.

So I dance.  I gyrate, working the hips.  Josh stares at my body like he’s transfixed.  I like it.  I love that feeling that I am something he wants, something I can use over him.  It’s a feeling of both submission and power at the same time.

Josh playfully swats at my ass, and I pretend to be scandalized by crying out, “Oh my!” in a playful way.  Its fun.  But I can tell Josh wants to screw.

I’m enjoying toying with him… but what, he wants to do it here on the bare floor?

I wrap my arms around Josh’s thick neck and we start kissing.  First soft kisses, then really deep ones.  I feel his erection against me, and his hands start sliding up my sweaty torso.  Any second now, he’ll- yep, he’s trying to take off my top.

I’m a skinny little chick, but for some reason, God gave me big boobs.  Guys always want to get their hands on my girls; Josh almost always goes for them first when we make out.

I lean over and snap off the light.  Everyone in this neighborhood is probably asleep, but suddenly I don’t want to risk anyone looking in.

“Com’on, baby,” I purr, “let’s go upstairs.”

“Its hot up there,” argues Josh, softly kissing my neck in that tantalizing way I love.  “Let’s do something down here.”

Sex?  Down here, on the floor?  I am suddenly shy.  That sounds… I don’t know, decadent.

“No, no,” I protest, and start pulling Josh to the stairs by his hand.  “Com’on, let’s go upstairs.”

We tromp upstairs, braving the heat.  The futon is opened up into a bed, and I strip naked, climbing onto the mattress.  “C ’mere, darling,” I say, settling onto my back.

I watch Josh take off his clothes.  In the dim light, I can’t see his see his face, but I think he might be frowning slightly.  I wait patiently.

Josh climbs on top of me, appreciatively running his hands over my body.  I giggle just a little; I’m ticklish.  And a little shy.  He’s fully erect, and I can feel the tip of his penis against my pelvis.  He’s already dribbling a little bit.

While kissing me, Josh takes one of my hands and guides it to his cock.  But I pull back.  Sometimes I fondle him, but tonight I’m not feeling it.  It is wrong that I just want some quick intercourse and then some cuddling?  Oh, and that massage I was promised.

Josh and I kiss some more, and he rolls over, pulling me on top of him.  I’m a little surprised, but I go with it.  Why not?  We kiss some more.  He reaches around my back and caresses my butt.  I find that a little… well, embarrassing, but if he’s enjoying himself, I don’t mind.

More kissing, really nice.  Then Josh’s hands venture up my back, onto my shoulders.  He begins pushing me downwards.  He’s trying to guide my lips to his cock.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m not into that.”

“Com’on, baby,” he pants.  “Just once, okay?”

“No,” I say, firmly.

“Seriously?” groans Josh.  “You can’t suck me off even once?”

“No Josh,” I say again.  I’m starting to feel less aroused.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles.  I need him to kiss me on the neck a little before I’m ready to forgive him and move on.

*********************************

Josh gets me back in the mood, and we have intercourse, with me on my back and him on top.  Feels good.

After Josh climaxes, we snuggle for a bit before I make him deliver on that promised massage.  The boy is that good, believe me.  I lie belly-down on the futon while Josh works my lower back.  Ohhhhhhhhhhh man, am I loving this.  His fingers should be declared a national treasure.  The massage is better than the intercourse.

But I can tell Josh is preoccupied about something.

Finally, he just asks me point-blank:  “Why don’t you ever want to do oral?”

I consider the question.  “I just… think its filthy,” I say.  “I mean, you want me to suck on the hole where your pee comes out.  I don’t want to ever put my lips on that.”

Josh argues, “But I’ve done oral for you.”

“Well…” I acknowledge.  “I don’t really care for it.”

“So you say,” grumbles Josh as his hands move up three inches.

“I’m sorry,” I say defensively.  “I think a lot of sex is really disgusting, if you want to know the truth.”

I fleetingly think of my mom.  She would be so disappointed in me, if she could overhear this conversation.  _Good girls don’t have filthy sex,_ she told me when I hit puberty.  _That’s what makes them good girls._

Josh’s fingers push a little too hard, tweaking a nerve.

“Ow!” I cry out.  “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Josh allows.  His hands vanish.

“Its just that…” he continues our conversation, “you barely like to do anything in bed.  We do basically do missionary and some groping, and that’s it.  You don’t like anything else.  You don’t even want to try my fantasies.  Or tell me any of yours.”

“I’m not dressing up like Princess Leia, Josh,” I say.

“I really don’t get you,” Josh says, and I hear frustration in his voice.  “You have the hottest banging body of any woman I’ve ever seen.”  He affectionately slaps my butt here.  “And you are totally a sexual person, like when you dance for me or flirt or whatever.”

He adjusts his hands again.  “But then we get in the bedroom, and all we do is get naked and do one position and that’s it.  Its like you’re ashamed to try anything.”

Josh is complaining, but I sense he’s not trying to accuse or pressure me here.

“Sex with you is hot, baby,” I tell him.

“I just wish you were more open-minded,” Josh says.

*********************************

The next day, Josh is obviously miffed at my lack of sexual ambition, but never mentions anything.  We go shopping for house items, mostly things for the kitchen.  Then we’re home in time for dinner.

After ordering a calzone, Josh and I talk about which room should be the home office, which should be his mancave.  I really think the office should be on the upper floor, because we’ll both use it, right?

And then there’s a knock on the door.  The calzone’s here already?

Josh goes to answer and is quickly calling me.  At the door is a beautiful woman who must be about fifty, I’m guessing.  She is short and slender, with a sweet, lined face, striking blue eyes, and almost-platinum blonde hair.  She’s dressed in work clothes; she must have just gotten home from the office.

“Hey baby,” Josh introduces me, “this is Mrs. Mathers.  Lives two doors down.”

“Please,” the woman says, “call me Brenda.”  She smiles, a tight little expression.  ”I was wondering… as you kids are new to the neighborhood, maybe you’d like to come over and have dinner with my husband Gil and myself?  It would be a simple evening, just the four of us.”

I am surprised.  People still invite the new neighbors over for dinner nowadays?  Brenda is literally more than twice my age.  What are we possibly going to talk about?

“Sure,” Josh says, not even looking at me.  “Sure, that would be great.  When?”

“Wonderful,” Brenda smiles again.  “Say… Friday at seven?”

*********************************

Nine AM the next morning, things get crazy.

The moving truck from Josh’s parents arrives, and Oh! My! God!  I pictured a standard U-Haul.  Josh’s folks sent an **_enormous_** eighteen-wheeler, and its trailer completely filled to the brim!  Where did they get all this stuff?

“Mom’s forever trying to empty out the summer houses,” Josh explains, as he signs the acceptance paperwork.

Summer houses?  Houses, **_plural???_**   How rich is Josh’s family?

The movers start unloading, and Josh and I have a major crisis on our hands.  The house is suddenly packed with far too much furniture.  We have four couches for our living room.  There are two king, two queen, and six twin-sized beds.  There are more bookcases than I have books.  For crying out loud, there’s even a grandfather clock for each floor.

Nonplussed, Josh accepts it all, directing the movers where to put things.  He doesn’t seem to listen to my cries of wisdom.

“Don’t worry,” he says absently, “we’ll be thankful for all of this stuff when we have guests over.”  He doesn’t say how many guests he’s expecting.

And then the movers depart, and I swear the house has become a top-to-bottom obstacle course.  Walking from the kitchen to the living room mean navigating around **_so much stuff_** that it takes ten minutes to go from the front door to reach the bathroom.  The place is blocked up.

I do my best to organize the calamity.  And by Friday afternoon, I’m feeling reasonably on top of the living room.  I’m wondering if I should tackle the china shelves next.

The phone rings.  Thankfully the person on the other end lets it ring long enough for me to vault over chairs and bureaus and rolled-up carpets and snap up the receiver in time.  “Hello?” I gasp.

“Miss Stephanie McMasters, please,” a snooty woman’s voice replies.

“Speaking!”

“Hello, Ms. McMasters, this is the OSU Department of Teaching and Learning.  We have scheduled you for your enrollment interview for next Wednesday at two PM.  You’ll be meeting with Professor Landers.  Can you confirm?”

Oh.  Right.  Before I can enroll in DTL, I need to impress the Ed department that I am a reasonable, well-balance individual who can be trusted with small children.  I have no idea what might be going on next Wednesday at two, but this meeting trumps everything.

“Sure,” I say.  “I mean… confirmed.”

“Thank you,” the snooty woman answers.  “We’ll see you next Wednesday, then.”

I get off the phone, scribble “Prof Landers – Wed 2pm” on a sticky note and put it front and center on the fridge.

Okay, that’s done.  What should I tackle next?

Geez, where to start?  The whole house is a great big pile of chaos and furniture.  The china shelves were my first instinct; I go back there.

Two hours later, I’ve shoved the shelves against the dining room wall, plus I’ve unpacked and reasonably organized the actual china.  I’m amazed it all arrived here without so much as a crack or a chip.  Now, to get the china onto shelves so we can actually walk through the dining room again.

“Not tonight, baby,” Josh tells me.  “We’ve got plans.”

I stare at him blankly.

“Don’t you remember?” he prods.  “We’re eating over at our neighbor’s house.  Brenda.”

Oh right!  I’d completely forgotten.  I’m sweaty and stinking from all the physical work I’ve been doing in no A/C.

“Awwwww,” I groan.  “Can’t we cancel?”

“It’ll be fun,” Josh promises.

I look him square in the eye.  “Yeah.  What are you basing that on?”

“Um…..” Josh replies.

*********************************

 


	2. Chapter 2

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

Resigned to a night of Complete Boring, I hurry, get in the shower, and then get ready.  What do you wear when your middle-aged neighbors invite you to dinner, anyway?  Maybe because its hot, I opt for a simple sun dress, the one with the flower pattern.  I debate if its too sexy, as it does hug my figure and has a lot of cleavage.  But Josh and I have to be there in five minutes, so I guess it will do.  My hair is still in that enormous braid I tied yesterday; that will have to do, too.

Hand-in-hand, Josh and I walk to the Mathers’, a little brick house with cute little shutters and little flowerbeds lining the little front walk.  Everything about the Mathers seems to be little.

We knock on the door, and Brenda greets us.  She’s wearing a party dress, earrings, and a gold necklace.  Immediately I feel underdressed.

“Come in,” Brenda beams, waving Josh and me inside.  We are grateful to step into the air conditioning.  The house is small and tidy, with a lot of pictures on the walls.  I smell… fish?  Ugh.  I hope they’re not serving fish.

Brenda escorts Josh and me into the living room, beside a staircase.  The two of us sit on the couch, looking about.

“Gil is upstairs, won’t be a minute,” Brenda tells us, sitting in one of the two easy chairs opposite the couch.  She positions herself with care, then doesn’t budge once rested; I wonder if she used to model in years past.

Brenda realizes I am studying her, and our gazes lock.  She smiles softly.

Is it my imagination, or does she seem to want something?

The staircase creaks, and a man descends from the upper floor.  He is heavy-set, doing his best to suck in his gut.  Balding, with a kind face and soft hazel eyes, the man seems happy to see me and Josh.  He’s wearing a button-down shirt, plain slacks, and loafers.

The man grins when he sees Josh and me, and extends his hand after he reaches the living room.  “Hi, how are you?” he says.  “I’m Gil Mathers.  Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Josh and I shake hands, murmuring polite nothings.

Gil sits in the easy chair next to his wife.  I notice that they don’t look at each other.

And then… the most awkward conversation of my life gets underway.  Brenda asks Josh and me about our lives, what are we studying at OSU, and so on.  Brenda and Gil mean well, but seriously… this is a social interrogation.

Maybe I’m desperate, but I start squinting at the photos on the walls.  One of them catches my eye.

“Hey,” I say.  “Is that you guys?”

Everybody twists about to follow my gaze.  There, in the back of the living room, is a framed black-and-white of a man and a woman standing next to big sign.  The man is wearing a tacky black tux, and the woman is wearing… a one-piece bathing suit?  How can that be?

Josh hops up and descends on the picture.  “’ _Dr. Mesmero and Assistant_ ’…” he reads from the sign.  To Gil, he says, “This was you?”

Wait, what?  Gil is/was Dr. Mesmero?  What, was he a cartoon supervillain or something?

Gil, Brenda, and I join Josh.  I look at the photo carefully.  Yep, the couple in the picture are Gil and Brenda, maybe in their mid-twenties?  They pose like Vegas professionals.  Maybe they **_were_** Vegas professionals.

Josh and I prod our hosts a little.  Gil was once a stage hypnotist, Brenda his sexy assistant.  I have a hard picturing all of this… but there’s the picture to prove their story.  Gil certainly doesn’t seem like a showman.  He’s gained a lot of weight since then, and he doesn’t really have much presence.

Josh puts his foot in his mouth when he tells Brenda, “Wow, you were hot.”

Stupid git!  I’m so embarrassed, I slap him in the ribs.

So then Josh asks Gil a bit about his show.  I’ve never seen someone hypnotized, and I don’t think Josh has either.  Under questioning, Gil coughs up a few tantalizing details about his show.  For example: “At the beginning of each show, I made Brenda here think she was a chicken.”

“A chicken?” Josh guffaws.  “No way…!”

Brenda’s eyes narrow and her expression hardens.  Uh-oh.  I know that look.  Hell hath no fury like a woman belittled by her Significant Other.

But rather than snapping at Gil, Brenda turns toward my boyfriend.

“Tell me, Josh,” she says.  “Do you have a big cock?”

“Wha…?” Josh asks.  “Do I have a…?”

My jaw may have dropped.  Seriously, did she-

“Let me try something, Josh,” says Brenda says, now ignoring Gil and me.  She holds out her hands, as if about to accept a serving tray.  “Look at me, Josh.  Stare into my eyes.  And press down on my hands, and hard as you can.  Can you do that?”

“Uh…” replies Josh.  He places his hands on Brenda’s.  “Yeah, sure, I…”

“Now push down, Josh,” says Brenda.  Her voice is remarkably serine and oily.  “Push as hard as you can…”

Josh pushes, and I see his shoulders tense as he applies pressure.  For reals, what is Brenda doing?  She’s, like, half his size.  Josh is likely to push her into the floor.

Brenda and Josh are locked in an intense stare.  Although I can tell my boy is pushing hard, somehow scrawny little Brenda can withstand him; her arms aren’t budging.  In fact-

Holy shit!  Brenda shouts something – I thought “ ** _sleep!_** ” – and yanks her hands away.  Then she is up against Josh, holding his head with one hand.  For a split second, Josh’s expression is one of pure shock, but then it’s a heartbeat later and his eyes are closed, his face and posture limp.  Is… he asleep?

I’ve nearly jumped out of my shoes.  What the fuck?

Without glancing at Gil or me, Brenda steps in to support Josh’s slumbering body, whispering to him urgently.  She snaps her fingers.

Josh straightens and opens his eyes.  He stares straight ahead.  Its like he isn’t really awake.

Brenda takes Josh’s hand and leads him away, and to the staircase.  Josh follows meekly.

I’m at a loss for words.  I stammer, “What… the fuck… just happened?”

Brenda and Josh vanish upstairs, and I hear a door shut.

I round on Gil, more confused than angry.  “Seriously, what just happened?” I ask.  “Why did Josh go upstairs with your wife?”

Gil and I then hear Brenda moaning behind the door.

For the first time, it dawns on me that my wonderful boyfriend is about to cheat on me.  I hear myself say out loud, “Are they fucking?”

It’s a stupid question.  Josh and Brenda about undoubtedly about to get it on.

Before I can react, Gil is talking to me.  “Let me explain,” he says hurriedly.  “Give me your hand.”

I automatically extend my hand.  Gil’s voice is strangely commanding; I obey him without realizing I’ve done so.

The older man seizes my wrist gently and turns my palm toward my face.  “Look here,” he says, pointing to a spot on my skin.  “Look at this spot on your hand right here.”

I don’t see anything unusual… but Gil’s abruptness and forceful authority have me momentarily confused.  I stare into my hand.

“Did you know your hand is magnetized?” Gil tells me.  ”The more you stare at this spot, the more your hand is magnetized to move toward your head.”

I realize all of a sudden… I can’t move my arm!  Seriously, I can’t put it down, nor can I look away.

Gil speaks on, faster.  “The more I snap my fingers,” I tell her, “the stronger the magnetic pull becomes.  When your hand touches your face, you drop into a deep hypnotic sleep.”

Hypnotic sleep?  Too late, I realize what is happening to Josh and me.  Brenda and Gil are **_hypnotists_**.

“Wha…?” I say, struggling to look away or lower my arm.  I can’t.

Gil starts snapping his fingers, his hand zipping about my head.  It distracts and confuses me.  I’m both alarmed and amazed when my hand starts to drift toward my face, all of its own.  Its like I have no power over it anymore.

Meanwhile, Gil’s voice drones on, and I can’t keep track of everything he’s telling me.  Something about sleeping and letting go… I’m not sure.  Why can’t I-

Gil grabs me, somehow, I’m not sure how.  I hear him shout, “ ** _SLEEP!_** ”

My eyes close and I collapse into his arms.  My body feels like it is no longer mine, like with a sudden zap, he’s put me in some powerful sleeping spell.

*********************************

I am floating, drifting, dreaming… I think.  I’m not sure what has happened to me.  My body feels lighter than air, yet weighed down at the same time.  I don’t want to move.  I couldn’t move if I tried.

There’s something weird happening to my thoughts.  I can think clearly, yet I can’t do anything but react.  I can’t remember anything, nor do I want to.

Through the haze, I hear Gil speaking to me.  He’s telling me how I feel, how I am going deeper, how I will follow and obey his instructions.

Gil’s voice then tells me:  “ _When next you open your eyes, you will find that your deepest sexual urges have been awakened.  All your inner sexual desires, no matter how deep nor how filthy, will bubble to the surface of your subconscious.  You will find yourself expressing all your deepest cravings, your darkest lusts.  There is nothing you can do to suppress those feelings deep within you.  When I awaken you, you are your true sexual self._ ”

Yes.  I will follow and obey his instructions.  That seems fine to me.

Gil begins to count.  I feel my body rousing, coming back to life, back to my control.

And then…

*********************************

I open my eyes, befuddled, but rapidly collecting my wits.  What just happened?  My mind must have drifted off for a second…

I remember.  Gil and I were talking here.  Josh and Brenda have wandered off to another part of the house, to… I can’t remember what they are doing, but I’m sure its cool.  Its just me and the Gilster, hangin’ in the living room.

“How do you feel?” Gil asks, casually.

I shrug.  “Fine,” I say, then add:  “Relaxed.”

“Okay,” nods Gil.

This is a weird conversation.

“Let’s sit,” Gil suggests, and gestures to the couch.

Sure.  I’ll sit.  Why not?  Seems innocent enough.

The two of us park it on the couch, and Gils sits a little too close for comfort.  I’m about to slide back when he takes my hand.

“Mind if I do this?” he asks, and begins stroking the top of my hand, from wrist to fingers.  Its like I’m his cat or something.

I open my mouth to protest when I feel something… something deep within me.  I’m not sure what it is…  But suddenly…

I lean forward, pressing my body against Gil.  Oh, God!  This feels wonderful.  I kiss him, deeply, without any hesitation.  Feeling this man with my body feels so incredible.  Our lips and tongues just caress each other over and over and over again.

In the back of my head, some part of me knows… Gil is probably older than my dad.  Do I care?

No, I couldn’t possibly care less.  In fact, I’m getting so wet being next to the man.  I slide my arms around his neck, making sure my fingers rub up and down his body.  I moan, press against him harder, and tongue him even more.

Why isn’t Gil ripping off my clothes?  I push my breasts into his chest, grunting a little to signal how horny I am.  Gil’s hands start crawling over my back, but its not enough for me.  I want to feel him on my bare skin.

I push Gil down onto his back, making him leave enough room for me to straddle him.  That isn’t easy – Gil’s waist is pretty large.  Whatever.  His belly isn’t the part which interests me.  Making sure he is watching, I pull up my sun dress, lifting it up over my head.  I feel my breasts bounce as the dress rustles over them, and Gil stares at my mammies, just as I intended.

I grab his shirt, pulling at it with a vengeance.  Gil needs no coaxing.  He shimmies and squirms, and together we strip him from the waist up.  Man, he’s flabbier than I thought.

You know what?  I don’t care.  I am so fucking horny, I could hump a turkey baster.  Seriously, I’m impressed I’m not frothing and drooling.

I hungrily kiss Gil’s tummy, clawing and fondling his man-boobs.  He smells clean, and I like his faint cologne.  As I press against his body, I feel his boner poke at me from his slacks.  It makes me hotter.

Well, we can do something about that.  As I kiss him, I slide my hands to his belt and make short work of the buckle.  Gil is breathing heavily, he must be as aroused as I am.  I unzip him and reach into his fly.  There he is, little Gil.  I want him in my mouth.

I grab Gil’s pants, furiously tugging at them.  Gil arches his back, letting me pull his pants off his ass and then thighs.  One quick scramble later, and his shoes, socks, slacks, and tightie-whities are all cast aside.

(Note to all men everywhere:  Please stop wearing tightie-whities?  They’re seriously gross.)

Now Gil is nude, lying on the couch, staring at me with wonder.  I pounce on him like a tigress, seizing his cock and plunging it into my mouth.  I suck at it greedily, amazed at how delicious it feels.  Seriously, I am getting so much wetter with this joystick bobbing in and out of my mouth.

Dimly, I realize:  This is my first blowjob.  Why did I ever resist doing one of these?  This is awesome.  I suck harder, and Gil cries out in delight.  He’s putty in my hands.  I squeeze his balls just a little, and he cries again.  I’m in control here, and its getting me off.  I love this.

Gil starts cumming.  I’m surprised at first, but take it in stride.  So this is what semen tastes like?  Salty, brackish, almost bitter.  Hot and sticky.  On taste alone, there’s not much to recommend, but in my hyper-aroused state, I love the feeling of it in my mouth.

I suck Gil dry, breathing loudly through my nostrils.  He whimpers happily as his climax fades, and I see him relax back onto the couch.

Oh, no you don’t.  Mamma wants hers.

While Gil is nakey, I’m still in my bra and panties.  “Get up,” I bark.  I shove off my panties, and can’t resist touching myself real quick.  God, am I wet!  I can’t believe how much juice is down there!

I pluck off my bra.  Now we’re both nude.  Feels good.  Impatiently, I watch Gil sit up, trying to keep up with my libido.  He’s already deflated.  We’ll see about that.

I swivel around, bend over, and point my butt right at him.  I put my hands on the couch arm to balance myself in this position.  “Touch me,” I demand.  The words come from my lips, but I’m surprised to hear them out loud.  “Fucking touch me,” I repeat, more forcefully.

Gil clamps one hand on my butt while his other hand reaches between my legs.  His fingers start poking my wet pussy, like he’s fumbling to push buttons on the elevator or something.

I impatiently wait for him to find my spot.  He’s getting close, and there are some flickers of pleasure here and there… but my hunger is too insatiable.

“No, no,” I gasp.  “Fuck me hard, daddy!  Give it to me so hard.  Fuck me right in the ass.”

Wait… **_what???_**   What did I just say?

Gil’s fingers vanish, and I feel him hesitate.  His hand is still on my butt, but I don’t feel his cock anywhere.

“Fuck my butt!” I repeat, pushing my rear at him.  Then, to drive the point home, I roar, “ ** _DO IT, BITCH!!!_** ”

I’m confused, yet not.  Oh, I’m so horny, I can’t think straight, but all I can think about is Gil ramming his cock into my asshole.  Oh, that sounds soooo good.  Why isn’t he plugging me?

Gil is speaking rapidly.  “When I snap my fingers, I will come in your pussy, but you will be convinced I am fucking your ass,” he tells me.  “It will be as sexy and pleasurable as you can imagine.”  He says all of this so quickly, and I’m only half-listening anyway.

Then his snaps his fingers for some reason, and then…

 ** _Then_** I feel his tip making love to my butthole.  Oh… my… God!

I’ve never know such chemical bliss.  Getting fucked up the butt is just blissful.  I moan loudly – I can’t help myself – and lean into him.  I bite my lip and lean into him harder.

Now he’s pumping away, coming deeper and deeper into my anus with every thrust.  “Oh mommy…!” I whimper, unable to control my own voice.  I’m about to cum.  That was fast, but I don’t care.

No.  I need more.

As Gil is spearing me, I thrash my head about.  My thick braid flops around like a fish out of water.

“Pull my hair,” I command.

Gil fucks on, ignoring me.

“Pull my hair, pull my hair **_NOW!!!_** ” I scream.  My fingers clamp into the couch.

Gil’s fingers grab my braid and tugs, just a little.

“ ** _PULL IT, YOU FUCKING PUSSY, COCKSUCKING SHIT!!!_** ” I bellow, thundering like a volcano.  “ ** _MAKE ME YOUR SLUTTY WHORE, YOU FUCKING RATDICK!_** ”

I have no idea where these words are coming from.  I’m so close to cumming, I don’t care if I’m reciting Shakespeare.  I just let whatever words want escape me flow freely.

Gil yanks my hair, hard.  I squeal as my head is snapped back.  The pain is intense, but it excites me.  My nipples alight as my vagina finally cums.

Oh Godddddddddddd!  My arms and knees buckle as I collapse like a house of cards.  I spill over the couch and onto the carpet.  Of course I feel Gil’s cock torn from my asshole, but it doesn’t matter to me.

On the floor, I’m cumming still.  Desperate to ride the orgasm, I plunge my own fingers into my pussy, stroking my spot.  Oh, yeah.  There it is.

I finger myself like crazy, like I’ll never experience this again unless I make a record-breaking orgasm all at once.  My fingertips don’t disappoint my vajayjay.  Soon I feel the pleasure flowing through my whole body.  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…!

I masturbate on the Mathers’ carpet, feeling like the shameless, dirty slut that I am.  Oh, I feel free.  Sex up the butt is fantastic.  Sex with myself is fantastic.  Why haven’t I been doing this for years now?

I let my orgasm play out.  Eventually, all good things do end.  Breathing mightily, I become motionless.

I am lying on the floor, fingers still in my own pussy.  Gil is flopped on the couch, looking down at me.  We remain there, silent, exhausted.

Dimly I wonder if Gil will come in my butt again.

My middle-aged lover leans down over me.  I look up to meet his eyes.

“Sleep!” he commands me.

My eyes close, and I tumble into nothingness.

*********************************

I’m dimly aware of Gil telling me to stand, and then sit on the couch.  My eyes are open, but I’m still somehow dreaming.  Like a robot, I follow his commands.

Josh appears, completely naked, and he seems to be under the same spell that has me.  Brenda, also nude, has Josh and me sit side-by-side on the couch.  Then Gil tells me to close my eyes, and I go back to sleep.

Now Brenda and Gil are talking as one, telling me and Josh that we will forget everything that we’ve done.  When I next open my eyes, I will put on my clothes, follow Josh home, and then make love to him.  And when I wake up in the morning, I will have no memory of what happened in this house.  No, I will believe that Gil, Brenda, Josh, and I had a nice, boring dinner, and that is that.

And then, Gil is counting up, up, up.  He reaches the last number, and I open my eyes.

*********************************


	3. Chapter 3

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

The next few days are a little weird for me.  Josh and I make some headway in getting our house in order.  But I find it hard to concentrate.  I’m not sure why.

On Monday, we finally whip the kitchen into something resembling order.  Its been a long day.  To celebrate, we order cheap Chinese, eating on one of our new dining room tables.  Josh is prattling on about how awesome this season will be – I assume he’s talking about football?

In mid-sentence, I interrupt him.  “Can we watch your porn tonight?” I ask.

Josh blinks, thrown by my question.  “Uh… sure,” he says.

I can’t wait for bedtime.  After what seems like an eternity, Josh and I retire to the bedroom.  Earlier in the day, I found his little dirty DVD collection.  Now I pounce on it, hungrily flipping through titles.

“Whoa,” Josh says, seeing my determination.

“I want this one,” I say, brandishing “Anal Sluts 4:  The Sluttening.”

Josh looks at me carefully.  “…this one?” he questions.

“Yeah,” I say, fumbling to boot up his laptop.  “You’ve seen it, right?”

My boyfriend speaks slowly.  “Well… that one I got from Rob,” he explains.  “I don’t know that its really my thing…”

“Oh, com’on,” I grumble, sliding the disk into the computer.

A few quick clicks later, and we’re into the hard and fast action.  I bring the laptop onto the bed, and pull Josh close to me.

“ _You want my ass, baby?_ ” one of the porn women in the movie coos.  She’s teasing a huge hulking fellow, a bald guy with muscles and a big purple cock like you wouldn’t believe.  The hulk violently throws the woman down on to the bed, pulls up one of her legs, and begins pumping into her butthole like he’s putting gas in his car.

From the angle, there’s no mistaking that he is entering her anus.  She fingers the other hole as if she’s plucking a harp.

I watch, mesmerized.  I snuggle even closer to Josh, absently fondling my own nipple.

We go through one whole sex scene before I can’t stand it.  “I want you in my ass, baby,” I moan to Josh, climbing onto him and undoing his pants at the same time.

Josh lets me strip him and then I have him peel back my shorts and undies.

“There, baby,” I tell him, and prostrate my tush in his direction.  “Pump my ass, baby, come up in there.”

Josh’s reaction is so not what I wanted.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Fuck my butt, bitch!” I snarl.

I feel his hands withdraw from my body.  “’cuse me?” he asks.

“You whimpering cunt!” I yell.  “Are you a man?  Pound my ass, you pussy!”

Josh withdraws across the bed.  “What is with you?” he says.

“Oh my god!” I growl.  “Are you fucking me, or what?”

“Yeah, but…” says Josh, “anal is just… gross.”

“For **_real?!?_** ” I explode.  “You want me to suck your cock, but you can’t plug my butt?  Get over here!”

“Let’s just sleep,” Josh says firmly, closing the laptop.

*********************************

I lie in bed, fully awake, fit to be tied.  I am so horny, I can’t stand it.  Why don’t I have a dildo?  Am I the only woman in the Western World who doesn’t have a sex toy?  Are there any 24-hour sex shops in Clintonville OH?

The next morning, Josh avoids looking at me directly.  He claims he needs to go into campus, but I’m suspicious of his reasons.  Whatever.  I try to work out my sexual frustrations by organizing our entertainment room.

While unpacking one of my last boxes, I find the large framed photo of my mom.  She looks beautiful and pure.  She is posing before a willow tree, smiling in bright summer light.  Her eyes sparkle.

What would Mom say if she could have heard me sex-talk to Josh last night?

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.  Mom would be positively aghast at my filthy mouth and desires.  I can see her mortified expression now.

I had planned to set Mom’s picture on the hearth.  Suddenly I can’t look at it.

*********************************

An hour later, I’ve forgotten about Mom’s picture and I’m back to thinking about anal sex.  Why can’t I stop?  Like, I literally can’t stop thinking about how great it must be to have an erect dick jackhammering away up your poophole.

I daydream.  I fantasize.  I plot.

There’s got to be some way to coax Josh into speaking Greek with me.  But how?  He said he wanted me to be more adventurous, right?  This has **_got_** to qualify.  Maybe if I promise to… I don’t know… give him one blowjob a day, every day, for a month, he’ll come in my backdoor?

But Josh is surprisingly resistant to my offer.  Every night, I pull out the stops, trying to convince him that I really, really, **_really_** need his cock up my ass.  I offer him everything I can think of.  I willing promise him that I will become his honest-to-God sex slave, saying “Yes master,” the whole nine yards… if only he does this one sex thing for me.

Josh is unmoved by all my attempts at negotiation.  “I just think anal is… **_uugh!_**   Disgusting!” he protests.

“ ** _Seriously?!?_** ” I roar.  “What about all that talk about trying new things?”

“What is with you?” Josh asks, pulling away from me.  “Are you on something?”

“ ** _Omigod, just fuck me in my butt, already!!!_** ” I screech.

And the whole week goes on like this.  Every night, I try to get it on with Josh.  And just when I get aroused, I start talking filthy and crave nothing but anal.  I don’t want anything else.  Josh tries to seduce me into our usual positions or something a little more R-rated, but I won’t have it.  He has to come in my butt, or deal’s off.

Its like I’m Dr. Jekyll one minute, but dirty, slutty Ms. Hyde the next.  I have no control once I start getting horny.

*********************************

Finally, after five days, I can’t stand it.  I’m climbing the walls.  Josh just will not fuck me in the way I need.  I’ve got to get help.  Somehow.  I don’t care how.

Classes aren’t in session, so officially I’m not on the OSU student health plan.  I call anyway, asking if I can talk to a counselor.  I’m not sure what a therapist could do to help, but I’ve gotta talk to someone.  My girlfriends would never understand this shit.

The Mental Health Center receptionist tells me that I can’t have an appointment until classes are in session, three weeks away.  But would I like to talk to a suicide prevention councilor?

Disgusted, I hang up.  I really, really need someone to explain what’s going on in my head… and my loins.  I boot up Josh’s laptop.  After masturbating to “Anal Sluts 4,” (which is profoundly unsatisfying), I do a Yahoo search for mental health providers in my zip code.  Then I make some calls.

Shit.  Shit, shit, shit!  None of the providers I call are reasonably priced, and they all want a referral.  I don’t have that kind of money or time.  I need relief **_now_**.  I start searching for other kinds of providers.

Holistic meditation expert?  That could be anything.  Health and Wellness Life Coach?  God, their ad looks cheesy.  No thank you.  Psychic?  Please.

I hesitate on one ad for a hypnotherapist.  Hypnosis?  I’ve never been hypnotized before.  Could that work?

The hypnotherapist guy is named Sheldon Grappler.  (Sheldon?  Huh.)  No MD.  Says here he’s a “certified hypnotist and councilor.”  Certified by whom, I can’t tell, but… it’s the best lead I’ve got.

I call and make an appointment.  In an hour from now.

*********************************

The hypnotist’s office is in a strip mall off Route 23, past Highbanks Park.  Like, way in the back of the strip mall, between a Frozen Yogurt place and a laundromat.  I hurry inside, hoping this isn’t a gigundous mistake.

Inside, there’s a dim reception area with one guy at the desk and no-one in the waiting area.  The guy, who is in his mid-thirties and skinnier than most pencils, stares at me when I say I have an appointment.  He smiles weakly and hands me a clipboard.  I fill out the form.

Under “ ** _Reason For Visit_** ,” I put “ _Sex Problems._ ”  What would you put?

The guy is watching me with an expression of amazement on his narrow face.  I thrust back the completed form, and pull out my pocket novel, prepared to wait for my appointment.

But the guy stands.  “Come on in,” he says, and opens the office door.

I walk through.  The next room has even worse lighting than reception, and it smells musky.  There’s a recliner, which I guess is for the hypnotic subject, and a few other chairs scattered about.  There’s also a small desk and some cheesy motivational posters taped to the wall.  I don’t know what I expected a hypnotist’s office to look like, but this feels like my grandmother’s scrapbooking room.

“Have a seat,” says the guy, and as he closes the door, I realize that he’s both the receptionist and hypnotist.  Well.  Nothing says success like being your own secretary.

I settle into the recliner, putting my purse on the floor next to me.  The guy – I guess this is Sheldon Grappler, Pro Hypnotist – sits in a folding chair opposite me, reading my clipboard.

I inspect him a little more closely.  He is handsome… I guess… although he doesn’t know how to dress himself.  He has sandy blonde hair, badly combed, with a positively gaunt face.  I’m sure his mother must worry that he isn’t eating enough.  He wears a button-down shirt and blue tie, which looks rather faded.  His khaki pants are wrinkled.  I note how his wrists and ankles stick out of his clothes.  He looks like a human scarecrow.

This guy is one makeover away from a proper dating life.

Absently, I wonder if he would fuck me up the butt.

Oh my God.  _Stop it!_ I scream at my brain, ashamed that my suddenly-filthy mind just cannot stop churning out smut.  I really need help.

“ _Sex problems?_ ” Sheldon echoes, reading from my clipboard.  He looks at me, stunned.

Its only now that I realize I’ve dressed like a total tramp this morning.  I’m wearing the cutoff tee shirt, the one with the torn-out neckline and plenty of midriff.  I’m also in the short jean shorts which show off my lower buttocks if I let them ride up.  And… oh jeez… I’m not wearing a bra.

 _Way to go, Stephanie_ , I think to myself.  I actually don’t remember getting dressed this morning, so this outfit must be an expression of my subconscious.  Or something.

“Ah…” Sheldon says, staring at my half-naked body, “what sort of sex problems are you… ah… experiencing?”

This is sooooo awkward.  I regret coming here, that’s for sure.

But what am I supposed to do?  Ignore my problem until I try chasing down and humping the mailman?  I have to do something.

I explain my situation as best I can to Sheldon.  My descriptions get a little graphic, but to the hypnotist’s credit, he listens intently.

“Ah…” he says, fidgeting a bit, “I’m used to helping people break bad habits.  Like nail-biting or smoking cessation or stopping weight gain.  Things like that.”

“Okay,” I reply.  “But… you **_have_** heard of other cases like mine, right?”

“No,” Sheldon says.

I sigh.  “Look,” I level, “you’ve gotta help me.  Can’t you… I don’t know… hypnotize me into being a normal person again?”

“Ah…” waxes Sheldon, “no.  It sounds to me like you’re responding to something powerful in your subconscious.  Hypnotism can’t make that go away.  What you really need is a therapist who-“

“I can’t go see a therapist,” I snap, perhaps too loudly.  “I really, really need something **_today._** ”

Sheldon sighs, rubbing his chin.  “I suppose we could try some memory regression,” he thinks out loud.  “Travel back in your past to see where this, ah, behavior and urges come from.”

I’m not sure I want Sheldon rummaging around in my memory.  “What else?” I ask.

“We could talk to your subconscious,” Sheldon offers.  “Ask it where these urges are coming from.”

“And how to stop them?” I demand.

The hypnotist nods.  “I can’t promise it will-“

“Can’t you just put me under and convince me I’m a normal girl?” I press.

Looking taken aback, Sheldon nods again.  “I mean, ah, its worth a shot.  I have to warn you… there’s a good chance anything I do will wear off after a while.”

Sounds fine to me.  I need help.  “Let’s get started,” I command, settling into the recliner.

Sheldon sits next to me, placing one hand on my shoulder.  He talks to me slowly and regularly, telling me to focus on something above my eye level.  I pick the ridiculous kitten face in one of those dippy posters.  Soon, under Sheldon’s guidance, I’m feeling drowsy, struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Sleep!” Sheldon commands me, snapping his fingers right before my eyes.

They close on their own, and I am drifting down, down, down into a deep sense of peace and tranquility.  I can still wear the laundromat machines through the office walls, but mostly I am captivated by Sheldon’s voice.

He is asking me questions.  At first, I don’t want to answer, but Sheldon tells me more things, sending me deeper, and then I don’t care what I am saying.

And then Sheldon is counting… and then I am slowly opening my eyes.  I stretch my arms and rub my face.

“Did it work?” I ask, clearing the fog from my mind.

Sheldon looks downright spooked.

“What?” I demand.

“Have you been hypnotized before?” he asks.  “Like, recently?”

“No,” I say.

“You respond like someone who’s been in and out of trance recently,” Sheldon tells me.  He shrugs.  “Just a hunch.”

I file that away to contemplate later.  “What did you learn?” I press him.

Sheldon goes beet red.

“What?” I demand.

“You… really, really want to be …ah… pleasured anally.”

I feel myself blush.  Oh God.  “I said that?”

Sheldon nods, too quickly.

I’m dreading the answer, but I have to know:  “What did I tell you, **_exactly?_** ”

Looking positively humiliated, Sheldon quotes the hypnotized me:  “ _I have to be fucked up the butt.  I have to be fucked up the butt… like the slut I am._ ”

Oh my god!  I’m **_mortified_**!  I clap both hands over my mouth in shame.  I’m cringing inside and out.

“Whatever is inside your mind,” Sheldon tells me, “is pretty deep and really insistent.  I really have to stress, you need to see a licensed therapist about-“

“Oh my god, **_shut up!_** ” I wail, holding my head in my hands.

There’s a silence while I process everything.  The laundry machines quietly rumble on the other side of the wall.

“Listen,” Sheldon says, composing his thoughts very carefully.  “I have some ideas.  You could…”

He goes on, but I am not listening.  I’m wracked with guilt and disbelief.  What the hell is wrong with me?  How did I go from being… you know… normal to this anal-sex-crazy madwoman?  Am I going to be like this forever?  Oh, my mom would be so ashamed if she could see me…

I push Mom out of my mind.

And just like that, I find myself thinking about a man coming up my butt.  Thrusting, pounding, slapping me, calling me a whore, sweating on me, making me squeal like a little pig.  I’d push down onto his cock, riding him, feeling him swell and cum within me.  Ohhhh…!  That sounds so good.

I’m horny.  I can’t help it.

And just like that, I **_need_** to be fucked from behind.  Like, I need it, the way a person crawling out of the desert **_needs_** water.  Its like I’m a sexual werewolf and the full moon has just peaked out from the clouds; I must be fucked, and right fucking now!

If anything, I’m more in heat now than before the hypnotism.  Seriously, my libido is eighty times stronger than this morning.

“Sheldon,” I say, interrupting the hypnotist, “you have a big cock, right?  You could help me.”

Before the poor guy can react, I climb into his lap, snuggling against him, drawing one of his hands under my shirt and onto my naked breast.

“Com’on, Sheldie… er, Shelda- Shel…  Uh, baby,” I coo, using my best sex voice.  “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Wait!” Sheldon stammers.  He’s actually trying to push me off him, although I can feel he is fully erect.  “Hold on!”

He doesn’t want me?  No fucking way.  I get even more aroused.  I nibble on his neck, then slip my tongue into his ear.  At the same time, one of my hands slides down his chest towards his-

“WHOA!” Sheldon cries, leaping to his feet.  I nearly tumble onto the floor.

“What the fuck?” I yell.

“I can’t…  I mean-  You shouldn’t-  We shouldn’t-,” Sheldon babbles, shifting nervously on his feet.  His boner pokes out from the front of his pants.

I try reasoning with him.  “Dude,” I implore, “you’ve got to help out a sister in need here.  Com’on, man, one quick pop in my ass, and I’m good.”  I smile as sweetly as I can.

“No no no no no no,” replies Sheldon, backing away.  “I totally can’t!”

I can’t believe my ears.  “You’re, like, a healer, right?” I demand.  “You have an obligation to help those in need.  Well, I’m **_so_** in need!”

“I can’t, ah… you know, do you up the butt!” Sheldon insists.

There must be an ethical hypnotist code or something.  “I wouldn’t tell anyone,” I promise.

“No!” says Sheldon.

I stare at him.  I’m so horny, its hard to think.  I ask, “What are you, married?”

“No.”

“Religious?”

“No.”

“Gay?”

“No!”

I’ve got it.  “You’re a prude!”

“No!” Sheldon protests, blushing.  “No, you’re not getting it.  We don’t know why you are feeling these urges.  If I… ah… give you what you want, I could be scratching your itch… or I could be making things totally worse.”

“Baby,” I say in the sex voice again, “there’s no way this would be anything but wonderful.”

“Stephanie!” yells Sheldon, sounding shrill like my mother for a second.  “I can’t fuck you!”

He says that pretty loudly.  I wonder if the laundromat people heard him.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh dude!” I whine.

I’m so horny, I’m almost going cross-eyed.  I realize I’m actually rubbing a hand against my crotch.  “I thought you hypnotized me to not… be like this…!”

“I did,” says Sheldon.  “Obviously your subconscious mind wants, ah, pleasuring, more than anything.”

“Oh fuck,” I moan.  “Fuck fuck fuck fuckety fuck-fuck-fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Sheldon says quickly.  “I’m going to research your case, see if there’s anything I can do.  Anything.  In the meantime-“

“You can fuck me?” I say hopefully.  “Just for a little relief?”

“In the meantime,” Sheldon repeats, “you can’t have anal sex, with anyone.  You hear me?  **_Anyone._** ”

*********************************


	4. Chapter 4

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

I drive home, feeling worse than ever.  I can’t stop thinking about getting some anal.  For every guy I see on the sidewalk, a part of me can’t help but think, _Could he fuck me up the butt?  Or him?  How about him?  He could do me too…!_

I’m in serious trouble.  I don’t know how to describe this… experience?  Feeling?  Craving?  Itch?  Words fail me.

I remember when I was seven and I was with my dad in a Kmart.  I really, really, really had to pee, like, unbelievably badly.  But Dad kept telling me to hold it.  I thought I was going to die, I was twisting my legs in knots.  Mom would have never let me suffer like that.

Well, my sex craving is sort of like desperately needing to pee, except **_waaaaaay_** worse.  I **_literally_** can’t stop thinking about a dick up my asshole.  Its all I want.  I want it sooooo bad.

I get home and try to throw myself into organizing the house.  Josh is out, which is probably just as well.  I’m panting and irritable and I probably look crazed.  I might try to rape him if he appeared.  Seriously, I’m that messed up.

I push furniture around and try to impose order into the closets.  This is good for a few hours, but it doesn’t distract my horny mind.  Over and over, I think about how sweet and satisfying it would be to be fucked from behind.

The phone rings, and by a miracle, I happen to be next to it.  With anal sex on the brain, I snap up the receiver and reflexively say, “Fuckbutt?”

“Excuse me?” says a shaky voice on the other end.

 ** _Omigod._**   I close my eyes in sheer embarrassment and horror.  “For but whom?” I say quickly.  “Ahem.  For whom is this call, please?”

“I’m trying to reach Ms. Stephanie McMasters,” the elderly male voice on the phone says.

“This is she,” I reply.  Inside, I desperately thinking:  _Don’t talk about anal…  Don’t talk about anal…  Don’t talk about anal…!_

“Ms. McMasters, this is Professor Landers,” the old man says.  Now he sounds annoyed.  “You were scheduled to be in my office today at two o’clock for your DTL enrollment interview.  I trust this time was communicated to you?”

Enrollment interview?

Oh shit!  Shit shit shit shit shitty **_shitty shit-shit!_**   **_FUCK!!!_**

“Professor!” I say sweetly, desperate to fix this fuck-up.  “I’m sorry, can you possibly cum up my butt?”

“Excuse me?” the professor asks, perplexed and aghast.

“I mean-“ I speak like a machine gun in overdrive.  “Can we possibly reschedule?  I am not feeling well at all.”

There is a suspicious pause.

“I am sorry to hear that, Ms. McMasters,” the professor tells me.  He sounds really thrown for a loop.  “Please call our department secretary to reschedule?”

“Yes,” I promise.  “Yes, yes, yes!”  _Don’t think about anal…!_

“Just remember, Ms. McMasters,” the professor warns, “all enrollment interviews must be concluded two weeks before classes begin.”

“Yes,” I promise again.  “Yes thank you fuckmybutt yes yes!”

I hang up before I can do any more damage.

*********************************

Oh…!  My…!  God…!

I have **_got_** to get it together!  There’s no way I can go out in public with anal turrets syndrome.  How am I possibly going to teach kindergarten like this?

That’s it.  I need relief.  I have to get butt-fucked.  Like, now.  Right now!

I grab Josh’s laptop, throw it open, and start searching the local AOL chatrooms.  There are a number of them for sex.  I type this in:

**Hi, I think I was hypnotized and it fucked me up and now I have to have anal. Anyone can help me? thanks**

Within seconds, LiverHopper392 replies:   **U a dude?**

Oh.  I didn’t provide context.  My fingers shaking, I type:

**No Im 20 yr old female osu student seriously I need anal right now u guys. Anyone nice who can help?**

Instantly replies flood in, like, hundreds fill up the chat window in the blink of an eye.

Wow.  I click on one from Rubarb4Chez, who writes:  **O baby i got yur sweet sweet pleasur here let me pop u now.**

Hmm.  I’ll put Rubarb4Chez on the Maybe pile.

I click a second, DrexFortress82: **Post pict of yur tits?**

Um, no.  I’m desperate, but I’m not about to spread nudies of myself all over the Internet.

I try the promisingly-named CumLordXXX:  **Yeah bitch I rape you solid! Your asshole is mine! Yum!**

Yeech!  That one made me ill.

To everyone, I write: **I have to see u before we hook up, pls send yur picts?**   That seems fair.

Again, a gazillion messages stampede across the screen, most with attachments.  Apparently these posters had digiphotos at the ready.  I click one, from BongoMan192.

Oh shit!  This is a picture of a penis.  A big, fat, hairy, lumpy penis, just flopped over there in its owner’s lap.  Judging from the angle, BongoMan192 also has a serious weight problem.

I click on another, FrazzaJoint.  Another penis.  GlockMeister27?  Penis.  AGS_RumbleSkid?  Penis.  DHHWUW666?  Erect penis.  BangleDoggie34?  Penis with… **_ewwww!_** something dripping from its mouth.  Disgusting.

Although I’m horny enough to sodomize myself with a broom handle, I just can’t get into this.  I want none of these dicks in my ass.  I slam the laptop shut.

*********************************

What the fuck do I do???  Inspiration hits me.  I hop in the car and speed north to that XXX Shop north way north on Route 23.  I’ve passed it every time Josh and I drive to visit his brother in Toledo; I’ve never gone in.  Well, today’s the day.

As I’m driving, I pass Sheldon’s hypnosis office.  I’m sorely tempted to barge in and demand to know how research on my case is going.

The XXX shop is dimly lit.  Inside, I find a forty-something woman in a string bikini behind the register.  Man, this lady does **_not_** have a bikini body, but she doesn’t seem to care.  A couple of fat men in the aisles stare at me.  So what?  I’m desperate to get what I need and get out of here.

I’ve never been in a sex shop before.  “Where’s your anal section?” I ask the cashier.

She and I have an awkward conversation about my, er, needs.  “Here, honey,” she says in a raspy voice, and guides me to the dildo display case.  I pick out the ThunderPumper 4000, mostly because it is large and has a long curved handle so a lady like me can insert it without too much straining to reach back there.

“For the privacy of your own home,” the cashier says, nodding with approval.

She also sells me a six-pack of KY lubricant, in tubes, assuring me that I **_will_** need them.  Feeling somewhat dubious, I make my purchases and retreat back to my car.

Oh god, god, god, I’m so horny.  Can I just use this now?  Maybe no-one will see me in my backseat while I’m guiding the ThunderPumper in the backdoor?

No.  I can’t.  I’m forlorn, but not about to get arrested.  I hop back on Route 23 and head south.

*********************************

I realize I’m in real trouble after the first traffic light.  I pass an outdoor basketball court, and it is filled with muscular, skinny guys, leaping about in a game.  So much sexiness…!  I nearly drive off the road as I feel my lust rise up and take over my brain.

 _Oh God…!  I really need to be fucked,_ I think, and that’s it.  I’m back into my raging sexaholic she-beast mode.  I grip the steering wheel, trying to think about unsexy things…  Starvation in Africa…  Extinction of humpback whales…  Child pornography…  Porn…  “Anal Sluts 4: The Sluttening”

**_Goddamnit!!!_ **

I am driving past Sheldon’s strip mall.  With a dangerous serve, I lurch into the parking lot, barreling forward at nearly fifty MPH.  I screech into a parking spot… well, two parking spots… and leap out of the car, grabbing my ThunderPumper 4000 and my year’s supply of KY jelly.  I’m not really thinking at this point, more raging and obeying my basest instincts.

Sheldon can help me.  Either he cures me or he fucks me up the ass.  I don’t care which.

I burst through Sheldon’s drab reception area and fly into his hypnosis room.  There, Sheldon is sitting next to a heavy-set middle-aged woman, obviously in a trance.

“When you next open your eyes,” Sheldon is saying, “your craving for sweets will be gone-“

“ ** _Sheldon!_** ” I bellow, my eyes bulging from their sockets.  “ ** _I really really REALLY need you, like, right now!!!_** ”

The hypnotist gawks at me.  The fat woman’s eyes flutter open and she looks between me and Sheldon uncertainly.

“Is… this part of my treatment?” she asks.

“Sheldon!” I yell, rounding on him.  “You’ve got to help me, now baby!  Look how sad I am; I just bought this!”

I thrust my turbo-powered dildo into his lap.

The woman’s face goes green.  She grabs her purse and angrily slaps Sheldon in the arm.  With a huff, she storms out.

“Mrs. Andrews!” calls Sheldon, but he’s far too late.  Angry, he glares at me.

“That was an important account for me!” he fumes.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” I say quickly.  “Listen, I can’t get it together.  Do you have anything for me?  Anything???”

The skinny man groans, sliding a hand over his face.  “Actually, I do,” he admits.  “Let me show you something.”

*********************************

Sheldon and I return to the reception area, where the world’s oldest computer is humming along on the desk.  The skinny hypnotist clicks the mouse and pulls up Netscape, then a few bookmarked webpages.  They are wall-to-wall text, no pictures.

The first one says, “Residual and Abnormal Effects of Trance Phenomena.”  I read a bit, but am bored out of my skull within ten words.  This is dry stuff.

“It says here,” Sheldon tells me, “that it is possible, while a person is hypnotized, for their subconscious to make a sudden but intense connection with past memories or associations.  In the rarest cases, such associations become obsessive, sometimes to self-destructive ends.”

“…’kay,” I say.  To look at the monitor, I have to snuggle closer to him.

Sheldon scratches his cheek.  “If I had to guess,” he says, “I’d say this is what happened to you.  Maybe you didn’t realize you were being hypnotized or you got really engaged in a movie or something.  But **_somehow_** you entered the trance state and **_something_** prodded your subconscious.  Its resulting in this compulsion to do, ah, anal sex.”

Sheldon smells nice.  I glance down at his crotch, then imaging tearing off his pants, stroking that cock, and sitting-

“Are you listening to me?” asks Sheldon suspiciously, quickly sliding away.

A sudden burst of desperation and hornyness take me over.  “Oh my god,” I blurt out, “just hump me in the butt already!”

I’ve known Sheldon less than a day.  I’m so sexually keyed up, I don’t care how crazy my desires are.  I’m either getting butt-fucked by Sheldon or BongoMan192.  I’d really prefer Sheldon.

My fingers are grasping Sheldon’ belt buckle.  I didn’t even realize I’d reached for them.  Oh my god, I am out of control!

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” cries Sheldon, leaping back.  “Listen to me.  Stephanie?  **_Listen to me!_** ”

He grabs me by the wrists and pins me into the chair.  Oh God, that’s hot!

“I can think of two treatments we can try,” he says to me.  I barely hear him through my sexual haze.  “If the first one doesn’t work, we’ll go straight into the second treatment.  **_Stephanie!_**   Are you listening to me?”

I swallow and force dirty thoughts from my mind.  “Yeah,” I say.  “I’m game.  What do we do?”

*********************************

Sheldon puts me back into the hypnosis chair and begins his chant to put me under.  I don’t resist.  My thoughts are so distracted with smut and lust, its hard to listen to him.  But soon I feel my body letting go, and then my thoughts letting go, and soon I am under his spell again.

While I am hypnotized, Sheldon’s words sound like they are coming from all around me and from within my own mind.  “ _Let your thoughts flow back,_ ” Sheldon’s voice tells me.  “ _Back, back.  Back to from where this attention to anal sex comes._ ”

“ _As you drift deeper into hypnosis,_ ” my hypnotist continues, “ _your connection to this distant past will become stronger.  When you awaken, that connection will be perfectly framed in your mind!_ ”

He talks on and on, giving me more suggestions and commands.  I let every word flow over me like water going over the falls.  I want this hypno-cure to work, so badly.  I want to be hypnotized back to my normal, non-slutty self.

And then…

I am opening my eyes, feeling my body awaken.

It takes me a minute to remember that’s I’ve actually been hypnotized at all.  I sit in the chair, Sheldon watching me closely.  I rub my cheeks once, listening to my mind.  Did the cure work?

I…

No.

Oh, no.  I just thought about Sheldon spearing me in the ass.

Fuck!

I bite my lip.  The desire for anal is a billion times stronger than before.  I have to have anal, I have to have it, I have to have it!!!  **_I HAVE TO HAVE IT!!!_**

“Fuck me,” Sheldon swears, as he realized the hypnosis has only made everything worse.

I attack the guy, not caring if he wants me or not.  I kiss him on his neck, his chest, his ears.  I rip at his shirt and his slacks.  I force him up against the wall.  I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon.

“Goddamn it,” Sheldon hisses, then kisses me too.

Our kisses are violent and almost biting.  As I feel Sheldon respond and begin to grope my body, I lose no time.

I tear off my shorts and panties, just rip them down past my hips and knees.  Stomping furiously, I push them further off my ankles and onto the floor.  I can feel the cold A/C on my genitals.  Feels good.

“This is for treatment,” Sheldon informs me.

Before I can wonder what he means, he spins me around, roughly.  I’m shoved against the recliner.  Sheldon’s left hand grips the back of my neck like a vice and forces me to bend over; his right hand smacks my butt, once.

“You like that, don’t you, slut?” he growls.

I am about to say something when he explodes, “ ** _Shut up!_** ”

My hair is pulled, firmly but hard.

Oh my god!  I love this.  I looo ** _OOO_** ooove this!  I feel completely powerless in his clutches.  I am so wet.

I hear Sheldon undoing his belt and then his hands briefly vanish as his pants descend.  Before I can look back at him, he’s gripping my neck again, even harder.  I’m pushed into the hypno-chair, my face smooshed against the cool leather.

I hear what sounds like ketchup squirting.  I feel a light mist around my butt, and then hear a squishy sound.  Oh my God!  Sheldon I putting on the KY lube!  I had no idea he’d grabbed the stuff.

I bite my lip.  I’m about to get fucked up the butt.  Oh my God, I can’t believe it.  Hurry, goddamnit!

Sheldon forces my buttocks apart with his free hand.  I feel his tip, right against my anus.

 ** _Do it!_** I want to scream.

Sheldon thrusts forward, just a bit.

 ** _Mutherfucker!_**   A sharp stab of pain shoots through me!  Not pleasurable pain, but real, raw fucking searing tortuous pain that **_really_** fucking hurts!  I scream, and not in delight.

“Goddamn!” I gasp, wriggling in Sheldon’s grasp.

“Don’t move,” he orders me, and positions his spear tip again.  He pushes-

**_Aaaaagggghhhh!!!_ **

Oh my god, that really, really fucking hurt!  Imagine someone takes a hot railway spike and jams it up your poophole, with one savage blow.  Oh my God, I swear, I must be torn open!  I don’t know if he actually penetrated me, but God ** _DAMN!_**

“Stop it!” I shriek.

With a superhuman burst of power, I throw off Sheldon, tumbling over the chair and onto the floor.  I lie in a heap, gasping and wincing at the pain.  I’m afraid to sit down.  My rectum is probably bleeding, right?

My arousal is gone.  Totally gone.  Its like someone threw ice-cold water on my fire and now all I am is shivering and in miserable pain.  I open my mouth to curse, and then…

…then the weirdest thing happens.  Out of the blue, a memory suddenly bobs to the front of my mind.

*********************************

I am four years old.  Mommy and me are at home, while Daddy is away.  “Would you like some TV, baby?” Mommy asks.  I say yes.

So she turns on Sesame Street, and I am so happy because it is about Super Grover and Prairie Dawn, and Super Grover and Prairie Dawn are my favorites.  I sit cross-legged in front of the big screen, watching with deep satisfaction.

I hardly notice when Mommy says, “Mommy and her friend are going to go upstairs and take a nap, okay, baby?”

I watch more Sesame Street.  Super Grover falls out of the sky, and that’s so silly.  I laugh.

But then Sesame Street is over.  I’m a little sad.  Maybe Mommy can make it come back?

I know where she is.  She’s in Mommy-Daddy room, taking a nap.  I climb the stairs, thinking about silly Super Grover.

Inside Mommy-Daddy room, Mommy is in the bed with her friend, the man who lives three houses away.  That’s weird because they are not sleeping and they are not wearing their clothes.  Silly Mommy!  We only get naked for bathtime.

“Take it, bitch!” Mommy’s friend says.  He sounds angry.

Mommy’s friend takes his penis and pushes it into Mommy’s butt.  I didn’t know butts could do that.  Mommy is screaming and suddenly I’m scared.  Is her friend hurting her?

“Yes!” Mommy yells.  “Oh my god, make me your slut!  Do you fucking hear me?  Make me your dirty, filthy slut!  Pull my hair, cunt!”

The two grown-ups crash into each other and Mommy’s friends’ penis goes into Mommy’s butt many times.  Mommy’s friend grabs and pulls Mommy’s hair, very hard.  I’m confused and scared, because they are screaming at each other.  Then, Mommy’s friend slaps Mommy’s butt, very, very hard.

I’m scared.  I start crying, loudly.

The grown-ups stop.  Mommy climbs off the bed, reaching for me…

*********************************

…and the memory ends.

I lie on the floor, stunned.  I can’t believe it.

I replay the memory again.  It is still crystal clear and fresh in my mind.  Not like a dream, which fades once you open your eyes.  No, this is a totally real memory.  I totally remember watching TV that day and I totally remember the fear I felt when I saw…

Oh my God.  My mom and Mr. Rutherford.  Mr. Rutherford, who owned the gas stations down on Route 17, who always chewed and spat tobacco while talking to the neighbors, Mr. Rutherford who was the worst Elementary School Santa Claus in the history of the planet.  Mr. Rutherford liked anally fucking my mom.

No.  My mom loved it when Mr. Rutherford butt-fucked her.

I think back through the memory yet again.  I, of course, didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but its pretty clear now that Mom was really into that dirty, filthy-mouthed sex.  I really think it was her thing, not her lover’s.

Of course, I have no idea how Dad fits into this picture… but that’s a struggle for another time.

I rub my forehead and bring myself to look at Sheldon.  He’s watching me closely.  His dick is still erect, but deflating.

“You remember,” he says.  There’s no trace of lust in his voice.

“Yeah,” I tell him.

Slowly, I get to my feet, reeling through the new information in my head.  I sit on the recliner.  Sheldon wipes the KY off his penis, then sits in a chair beside me.

“What happened?” he asked.

I should keep my mouth shut.  The memory of my mother is not Sheldon’s business and I really don’t know the guy.  But I’m feeling… exposed.  And Sheldon seems genuinely concerned.

I tell him everything.  I cringe and flinch when I have to describe what I saw in Mom’s bed, but I get the imagery out.

“Wow,” Sheldon says.

Yeah.

We both process everything for a bit.  Finally, I say, “That craving for anal sex… its totally gone.”

“Yeah,” nods Sheldon.  “You found the root connection.  Now that’s exposed, your subconscious can directly process everything.  You shouldn’t feel that way again.”

I don’t fully understand that.  “So…” I say slowly, “because my mom was having… an affair…”

“While I put you in trance the first time, when we were talking to your subconscious” Sheldon thinks out loud, “you told me how your mom once told you that sex was filthy and not for good girls.  Like you.”

“Yeah?” I ask.  I don’t remember telling Sheldon that, but it sounds true enough.

“Well, lo and behold,” the hypnotist observes, “here we are in your adult life, and we discover that your mom secretly craved, ah, rough anal sex.  There’s a real dichotomy between her message and example.  No wonder your subconscious was conflicted.”

“Okay,” I say, chewing on what Sheldon is saying.  “Up until now, I’ve always thought of sex as… dirty.  Enjoyable, but dirty.”

“Exactly,” responds Sheldon.  “I don’t know, but maybe that’s how your mom thought of herself?  As a dirty girl?  Or maybe she told you sex was dirty because she didn’t want you following her example?”

“Wow,” I say, dumbfounded.

There’s a lull as I think about that.

“You okay?” Sheldon asks.

“Huh?” I say, caught off-guard.  “Oh, yeah.  I just can’t believe… my mom was such a slut.”

Sheldon shakes his head, firmly.  “Don’t say that,” he tells me.  “You don’t know that.  I don’t know why she did what she did, but she obviously had serious cravings deep within her.”

“Yeah, but she was banging the guy down the street!  In our house!” I say angrily.

The hypnotist gestures helplessly.  “All I am saying,” he points out, “is that you remembered one incident in the woman’s life.  As a hypnotist, I know that people are the sum of many experiences.  You don’t know what happened before that day.  Maybe this guy was the real love of her life.  On the other hand, maybe she was…”

“A slut?” I ask wryly.

“You don’t know, that’s all I’m saying,” Sheldon tells me.  “Don’t judge the woman too quickly.  She is your mom, after all.”

He stands, shivering a little.

“Do you mind if we put on our pants?” Sheldon asks.  “I just realized; its really fucking cold in here.”

*********************************


	5. Epilogue

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

Sheldon and I restore our clothes and he walks me back to the reception area.  I should be going.  Its getting late.

“You going to be alright?” Sheldon asks me.

The sex cravings are completely gone from my mind.  I haven’t had improper thoughts for over twenty minutes; that’s a record!

“I think so,” I say.

Sheldon fixes me with a firm look.  “You still need to-“

“-talk with a real therapist,” I finish with him.  “Yes, I will.”

I reach for the door, then hesitate.

“Tell me one thing,” I say.  “You were really going to… go all the way with me?”

Sheldon looks uncomfortable.  “Yeah, about that…” he says, kicking the carpet.  “I’d really appreciate it if you could, ah, not mention that.  To like, ah, **_anyone_**.  I could lose my license.”

“Doofus,” I say playfully.  “I’m not even telling my boyfriend.  But you were willing to go all the way?”

Sheldon sighs.  “My research strongly suggested there was a root memory which was throwing your, ah, emotional equilibrium out of whack.  When it didn’t surface in your second hypnosis session, I gambled that…”

“That my sphincter would be too tight?” I ask.  I’m amused to see him squirm.

“No!” Sheldon says.  “No, that the act of receiving what you wanted would also jolt your subconscious.  Kind of slap it in the face.”

“Ah,” I reply.  A wry smile slinks across my face.  “You do this for all your patients?”

Blushing, Sheldon says, “Ah, no.  But if I hadn’t done it for you, you’d be disrupting all my other sessions.”

*********************************

I drive out of the parking lot, my mind whirling with revelations.  Its wonderful to be actually thinking, without sex cluttering up my head.  I feel cleansed, relieved.

I’ll have to apologize to Josh and more-or-less tell him what’s been going on.  I’m not sure he’ll understand… at first… but I owe him that much.  Josh is a good guy.  Telling him the truth just feels right.

And then I think about my mom.  Man, I’m sure she would be mortified if she knew what had happened to me.  She always went to such lengths to candy-coat my childhood.  I remember when she went to the extreme of hiding plastic Easter eggs all over our house because she didn’t want me to think the Easter bunny wasn’t real.

But I also think about… how little I truly knew my mother.  She died when I was fifteen, when I was still figuring out who I was.

I never realized… I didn’t really know who she was.

*********************************

 


End file.
